Church is often tough. Possum will only sit on the floor and not join in. Bandicoot begs for food. Little Princess cries if I don’t hold her. That is on a good day.

Today was not a good day.

Let’s just say that they were bad. In fairness to Bandicoot, I really think he has some issues and only realises half of it. Still there is that half.

I lost it. After spending the whole service chasing and chastising, both inside and outside the Church, I went and hid around the back of the building and cried during morning tea.

And then it got worse.

Today was “Live Sparks” day. Live Sparks is our Church’s equivalent to Sunday School. The whole family attends together, including parents and, well, one year olds. It is rather dry in its presentation, although I do not understand why. The elements are there – song, sign language, story, craft, prayer…, but still it is tough going. We are only a small Church and today there were a total of three families. No where to hide.

Possum and I sat outside and had a discussion about appropriate Church behaviour and why we do it, even if it is dull (for the third time today.) He was terribly contrite, so we went back inside to join Live Sparks. No sooner were we there and he was lying on the floor sucking his thumb, complaining loudly how boring it was.

I was ropable.

And that was just Possum.

It went on and on… the three of them, each in their own way: angry protest, exuberant disobedience, demanding attachment. It was worse than The Island of Perpetual Tickling (IPT).

I had to get away.

Thank goodness DH understood.

Apart from the desperate, undisciplined, inconsiderate nature of my children, the events have raised some interesting points for me to consider:

On Mondays and Fridays it is just Little Princess and Mummy. The boys are at school and preschool so it is girl time. We have split it so that Mondays are Mummy’s Day and Fridays are for Little Princess – or as much as possible, anyway.

On Friday mornings we go to Mainly Music at our Church. This group started last winter and Bandicoot was devastated when his preschool days clashed with it. This year, Little Princess has really made it her own.

Every three weeks the amazing team of volunteers changes the theme. The last three weeks (including today) we have been warming up to Easter. Today, once the music and food finished, we had some real Easter fun.

They had an Easter egg hunt in the grounds of the Church (they used plastic eggs that had been filled with little goodies – crayons, stickers, stamps and the like). Little Princess (and several other of the little people) had a blast just playing with the eggs, taking them in and out of the big tub, rattling them around, rolling them. I hadn’t realised how much fun they could be.

They also made this wonderful chicken paper-plate craft. Again the gorgeous volunteers had done all the work, so it was just right for the average age of the group (we have mostly little people there this term). Little Princess loves her chicken! I hope it will last until Easter so that we can use it as a centrepiece on the table.

Cute, huh?

And then, as if things weren’t special enough, they were each given another plastic egg – this time with a decadent truffle or marzipan filled European chocolate egg inside, as well as a little fluffy chicken. WELL, you don’t need to ask Little Princess twice about chocolate. In it went, all in one go! She is a real little woman, that one – understands the importance of chocolate completely. She just loved it. We were given two more to bring home to her big brothers. I am pretty sure she will do her Oscar-nominated woe-is-me pretend cry when they get them and we don’t have one left for her!

As we were leaving, she was given another parcel, made up by one of the volunteers:

and inside:

Yes that is a hand-blown, decorated egg (okay, mouth-blown, but you get the idea.) How special is that?

I was speaking to one of the older ladies there. She told me about a tradition in her family as her kids grew up. For lunch on Easter Sunday they had “Russian Eggs”.

These were hard boiled (and I guess coloured, as she is an egg-colouring champion) eggs. Each person had to carefully peel their egg and cut it in half. If the yolk was right in the middle they needed to carefully scoop it out, but if it was on the side, it was even more tricky – they needed to hollow it out leaving a little egg-boat intact. Then, carefully, they added in oil, vinegar, salt and pepper, placed the scooped out egg back on top and POP! Pop it all in their mouth in one go.